The Nightmare
by Jenny08
Summary: Angela's recurring nightmare.
1. Angela's Baby

**The Nightmare**

I had the dream again last night. The Nightmare. The Recurring Nightmare. The first night I had it was almost two months ago. It's been becoming more frequent since then. The first time I dreamt it I awoke shaking and screaming. My screams woke up John and he tried to comfort me until the shakes subsided. He asked what happened.

"A nightmare," I said, convincing the both of us. "Just a nightmare."

Whatever it was, I couldn't get back to sleep that night. I lay awake, with John sleeping again beside me, the rest of the night through.

The Nightmare was the first indication that I was pregnant. I just knew that was what it meant. The next morning I took a pregnancy test and I found that my suspicions were correct. I was stunned. I wasn't ready! It wasn't planned! I was afraid. When John came I told him right away. I was so nervous; I didn't know what he would do. So many feelings projected from him. First disbelief, then awe, fear, confusion, and lastly, happiness and excitement.

We talked it over. He wanted to keep it with all his heart. I would've gone whichever way John wanted on this issue. He wanted The Baby. He couldn't wait to be a father! A few days later I began to feel good about the decision. And I knew that we made the right choice.

I began to worry a little when The Nightmare kept coming. I didn't tell John about it. I thought I was just insecure about the pregnancy and being not at all ready for it. I had no idea what happened with pregnant women. Maybe it was just hormones. Maybe it wasn't uncommon for pregnant women to dream such frightening things. But in the back of my mind I knew it wasn't something so simple, I just didn't want to believe it.

I can barely sleep most nights for fear of The Nightmare. When I do finally get to sleep, either The Nightmare disturbs my sleep or some other fear-driven nightmare haunts my dreams. Even during the days it haunts me. I'm so tired all the time and fear that he is hiding around the corner, waiting to jump out and…

I'm scared for The Baby. I'm scared for us. What would I do if I lost it? Could I keep going on? I hate even thinking about losing it. What would John do? Would he be crushed? Or angry? I know he wouldn't be angry with me, but would he take it out on someone else? I wouldn't want him to do something extreme in the event that we _did_ lose it. Should I worry about his sanity? Should I worry about _my_ sanity?

John knows that something is wrong. I'm tired all the time and my mind isn't as sharp as it used to be. I'm sure I look like hell. He hasn't had too much experience with pregnant women. Maybe he thinks it's normal.

Should I tell someone about it? John? What would he do? He'd probably swing by Hell and look for him. If wasn't there? If he was on this plane? What if The Nightmare is true? Could I tell a doctor about The Nightmare? A doctor would probably give me some medication to stop it. That would be nice, but would medication hurt The Baby? Or they'd send me to a psychiatrist. Especially if I told them all the details. They wouldn't believe me. Just like I didn't believe John in the beginning… I don't think there's anything I can do other than grin and bear it.

I need to stop. Stop worrying myself even more. I think too much sometimes. It's not good for me. It definitely can't be helping. I used to do this when I was younger. If something worried me I kept thinking of it and thinking of it and getting more and more anxious and soon the worry consumed me. It was all I could think about or act upon. Sometimes I felt that I should have joined Isabelle in the hospital... I need to sleep.

I fall asleep rather quickly tonight. No sign of The Nightmare in sight. I feel better. Maybe I'll have a good dream tonight. I could use a good pick-me-up. But, no. It's just not fair…

My mind heads for the darkness. I'm completely lost in it. I can't see anything. I can't hear anything. I can't feel anything. I can't breathe. I turn around and see him. That horrible, smiling face… The hands quickly unwinding it… I feel sick… I know what's coming… I see it all very clearly now... Balthazar…with a grin on his face…and a hooked clothes hanger in his hands…

**AN: I can't believe that I wrote this. I felt a bit sick at the end. To be honest sometimes I worry about my sanity. **


	2. Dead Inside

The Nightmare

part 2

The Nightmare was the beginning of it all now that I look back on it. Why couldn't she tell me about it? I might have been able to do something. If she just didn't want to worry me she was just stupid! Why didn't she just tell me? Was she was too proud to admit something was wrong with her or The Baby? Stupid. Mother of the year, her. No chance for it now.

I was worried after the first Nightmare. She'd never woken up like that in the night before. She was sure it was just something random. It happens sometimes, you know? I didn't think too much of it.

When I came in the door that day I could see she was nervous. Wringing her hands and shaking. She stood before me and kept her distance. When the news spilt from her beautiful mouth I was stunned. My mind was a blank slate. I sank down to the floor. She crouched in front of me.

"John?" she asked. "John, what do you think?"

What did I think? I couldn't think. Period. She held one of my hands in her small, delicate ones.

"How long have you known?" Stupid, yes, but I needed time for my brain to get back into gear.

"Since last night."

Ah, I'd thought, maybe that's what brought on The Nightmare. This was all new to her, she was worried and her mind went into overdrive. It was logical.

We talked about our options. She didn't know what she wanted, but when I said what I wanted she agreed with the decision. I wanted to keep The Baby. I told her that she would be a good mother. I knew she would have been. I hoped I could be a good father. I didn't have the best model in the world. After all, I told her, we aren't getting any younger. Why not start now?

That was it. We were gonna have a baby. When she smiled I couldn't help it; I smiled too. Smiling was addictive. We were happy.

I was happy throughout her short-lived pregnancy. I thought she was too, even when she was looking ill and probably feeling just as bad as she looked. I had the feeling she was some sort of zombie when I was away, but when she was with me she always smiled and things were almost all right. There was something in her eyes, though, that said otherwise.

The last night we were together was normal. Lately she'd been coming into bed after me. She'd been having The Nightmare pretty often, but I was a deep sleeper. I don't think it even woke her every night. When she came to bed I put my arms around her. She was tense. I moved closer to her and was asleep before I even knew it.

She never woke up. I should've known something was wrong. I could see that something was different but us having a baby was different enough to blind me. I thought the pregnancy, The Baby, and everything would be just peachy. I was blind. I still can't say her name without feeling horrible.

When I got up in the morning I had to take a piss. I got up without even looking at her. I did my business and noticed dried blood on my right hip. I checked myself. I wasn't cut anywhere. I ran back to the bedroom and saw the huge red stain under her. I grabbed her and tried to wake her up but it was no good. She was already cold. I clutched her body. It was the most pain I'd ever felt in my entire life. I'd gladly go back to Hell if I didn't have to feel this. It was the most I'd ever cried. I cried so much I threw up. I cried so much I went hoarse. And I didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. My insides felt like they were going down a drain. It was horrible. I felt like I was drowning. I couldn't breathe. I passed out. If I could trade, I would. Nothing can bring her back. Nothing can bring The Baby back. Nothing can make us a family again. I'll never be happy again. I'm lost now. I've got no one, nothing.

When I woke up I saw Chas looking down at me. I'd never seen that look on his face before. It was a mixture of sadness and anger. His shoulders and wings slumped. There were trails of tears running down his face. He knew what had happened. He told me that the police were called and her body was already gone. Most of all, he told me who did it.

AN: I didn't plan on doing a second part, but you talked me into it… BTW, I hate writing softie-John. I listened to "Goneaway" by The Offspring while writing the last part. If you've never heard it I suggest you check it out. It's sad. I'm going to write a third part, but it won't be posted for a while. I'm going away for a week and a half. If someone wrote a Constantine/Devil's Advocate crossover it would be awesome!


End file.
